Jeff Jacobson - Wormfood

CHAPTER 35

Misty drove straight to the nearest emergency room, nearly forty miles away down in Redding, where they spent a few hours straightening out her fingers. I got some blood. The doctors couldn’t quite figure out exactly what was wrong with Bert and wanted to run all kinds of tests on him, but he slipped away when the National Guard guys were busy watching Misty bounce up the hospital corridor, all smiles and giggles after her pain medication had kicked in. I told them we’d picked Bert up along the side of the highway and had no idea who the hell he was.

Everybody was too preoccupied with the flood to worry about much else anyway.

A few days later, when the rain had finally stopped and the floodwater had settled into nothing but miles of mudflats, somebody finally figured out that Fat Ernst’s restaurant had burned down. I don’t think many people were all that concerned, but with Ray’s police cruiser, the Sawyers’ truck, and especially Slim’s pickup scattered out in the parking lot, somebody had to take a look. Then they started finding bones. It took a week, but several skulls got unearthed. Two of them had a couple of large bullet holes. Somebody jumped to the conclusion that Junior and Slim had killed each other, and that goddamn idiot Ray had made things worse. Heck and Pearl got caught in the cross fire. That suited me fine.

The county made some half-assed attempt at an official investigation, but everybody assumed that either the flood or the fire had killed whoever had been there when Slim and Junior started shooting at each other. The flood had washed pretty much all of the evidence away. Nobody asked me and Misty anything, and we didn’t exactly volunteer any information.

A few days later, they found another skull out by the ditch. It was Grandma. They identified her back molars. I spent a day sifting through the mud and charred timbers, wearing Grandpa’s boots in case any worms were left, and eventually found her walker and the shotgun. The next day I buried Grandma’s skull next to Grandpa. Her skull looked lonely in the casket, so I put her walker and Browning .10 gauge in with it.

Nobody ever found the buckle. Or the worms.

I figure that most of the worms got washed down into the wide, flat fields of the Sacramento Valley and once the rain stopped and the floodwaters receded, they buried themselves in the mud, escaping the warm, dry rays of the sun.

I’m careful. I only drink bottled water. I don’t fish anymore. I wear Grandpa’s heavy boots all the time.

And I’ll never eat meat again.

One more moment

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In every hardened cop’s worst dreams there lurks a nightmare waiting to become reality. Captain Mace has encountered his. When a string of raped and dismembered corpses appears throughout New York, the investigation draws Mace into an interactive plot that plays like a horror movie. Taking the lead role in this chilling story may be the challenge of his career, testing his skills and his stamina, but even a superhero would find the series of terrifying crime scenarios daunting.

Unlike anything Mace has experienced, every blood-spattered scene filled with body parts and partially eaten human remains looks like an animal’s dining room strewn with rotting leftovers. Only Satanic legends and tales from the dark side of spiritual oblivion resemble the mayhem this beast has created in his frenzy. In the wake of each attack is the haunting premonition of another murdering onslaught.

As Mace follows this crimson trail of madness, he must accept the inevitable conclusion. Whoever—or whatever—is responsible for this terror does not intend to stop, and it’s up to him to put an end to the chaotic reign of a perpetrator whom, until now, he’s met only in the annals of mythology. The mere mention of the word would send New York into a panic: werewolf .

ISBN# 978-160542099-8

Mass Market Paperback / Horror

US $7.95 / CDN $8.95

AVAILABLE NOW

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